Dead to Them
by jasonbournes
Summary: Their first mission back had gone horribly and awfully south. At fault of their new handler, they'd been screwed on the intel going into the mission. The briefings hadn't been as detailed as they should've been, or as detailed as they had been, leaving Clint in critical condition and Natasha bruised up. An old friend comes to visit. *ONESHOT*


The threshold is a snare that strings him up with memories, a haunted passageway to an all too familiar room that was once filled with the presence of past successes and synced voices, until an alien shattered their harmony. Phil Coulson doesn't believe in lingering, though reminiscing often haunts his empty thoughts. He keeps moving because that's what he's been wired to do, but the ground beneath him is foreign, hauntingly unfamiliar. His soul aches for the ground that had been beneath him, the stable ground that the trio had created effortlessly and effectively. But nowadays, the sturdy ground that had been beneath them is scarred by fire, blackened and brittle. There was no turning back these days.

Their first mission back had gone horribly and awfully south. At fault of their new handler, they'd been screwed on the intel going into the mission. The briefings hadn't been as detailed as they should've been, or as detailed as they had been, leaving Clint in critical condition and Natasha bruised up. The two hadn't had a bad mission in over nine months.

The duo fell into a peaceful silence in the pale infirmary room. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Clint felt himself drifting off. When he tried to fight and stay awake, Natasha slips into the bed beside him and whispers a few soft words that force him to give in. He was out a few seconds, and she followed not too long after. When she finally fades, he steps into the room.

He frowns at the label on the infirmary door, which read: "Barton, Clint, Level 6." He then looks down at his chest, raising the ID badge so he could get a better look. He sets it back down once his eyes travel upon the print. His fingers clench from the memories that claw at the back of his mind in an attempt to drag themselves back into existence. They cry out and dig their claws into his stomach. He grimaces and tightens his jaw and fights the urge to vomit.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers to the duo as he lingered in the doorframe. They didn't stir. For a moment he was proud of all the work they'd done, all the people they saved and the legacies they left behind. A shadow crosses over his face as he remembers, He was dead to them. He doesn't exist in their world now. He's nothing more than a memory. The only ones they had to trust now were one another.

 _You can't. You can't go back to this,_ he mouths, but the memories don't fade. His eyes travel upon the exhausted couple, letting out a frustrated sigh. Silently, Coulson moves over to them and gently rubs Clint's left bruised arm, and regrets it instantly. Not because it woke him, but at the aggressive memories that flood back with the single touch. He backs away from the bed, clenching his jaw in attempt to erase the emotion.

He smiles slightly at the sight of her. He remembers building her up, tearing away at the walls that she had enforced and the foundation that the Red Room laid. Guilt laps at the bottom of his spine like pins and needles. Their relaxed position carves faces in his mind – faces with eyes that smoulder like wood chips in a fireplace; those that linger too long and slowly die out.

"I'm so sorry," he repeats, returning to his position in the doorway. He exchanges a final glance at Clint and Natasha as he hears someone moving down the hall. With his final glare, there is a sudden ache that fills his bones, a sudden blow that produces a heart wrenching guilt throughout every limb in his body. He smiles slightly and straightens his shoulders in pride, dipping his head.  
He'd done it. He had given Clint a second chance, morphing him into one of the best agents SHIELD had ever seen. He taught Clint to recognize the bright things in life, to ignore the shadows and demons. He taught him that people really could change. He had taught Natasha to trust again. He'd taught her that it was okay to let her walls down and to allow someone in. He taught her that caring for someone wasn't a weakness, it was a strength.

 _A new chapter,_ he thinks. He recognizes the application. He backs out of the room, and walks down the hallway with a certain pride in his step. He nods in greeting as Skye meets him at the end of the hall. "You okay, AC?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't reply for some time as they continue down the hall, until he stops near an exit and meets her confused glare. "Yeah, I'm fine. And they will be too." He says simply, leaving her with an awed look on her face as they continue out the exit to a massive parked plane.


End file.
